Til twinkle pinkie rosebuds turn shrubbery so wild
wilder than the fume upon which the moonglade
climbs gloomy tide to make welcome of the night
until the little birds sing your name
then times be as happy as flame
One goldfinch and 3 white pigeons
a colourful macaw parrot and falconet
or the black crowncrane of large pinions
soul's fleeting harbinger of the lorikeet
type, as i await the little birds sing
The whole of my being approves
by the star shining in northerly clime
as in clinging on tight to a feeling so true
of grim death in moment so prime
until the birds vocalize your name
only then shall I not feel the disdain
Patience robs the clamouring chest
heels are still weary and cold in rest
and soon little birds send me tweets
by the dawn chorus of early birds' beats
shall one become happy and gay

Swallows, and it follow
Into the stream of blood
Sorrows, of tomorrow
Quenched along smoke thirst

Poisonous oily liquid, description
Stated literally
Should be avoided, medical prescription
Lingers in breath

Smoker, person's pseudonym
Enjoying for him(her)self
Smoking, process's anonym
Nicotine, isn't always a sin


|AB|

I am at double Four-double Four
Thirty-Fourth Street,
I could use a lift of sorts.
I would like to remain nameless,
my condition certainly is not.

My being seems out of place;
I have tried to keep focused.
The last group of days
have blurred together;
meaning lessens by define.

A bent key, I hold in my hand,
the remnant of a jagged world
unfulfilled by expectation;
of which I no longer fit.
Learned techniques fail me.

I was given this number,
by a caring friend;
said it would lead me
to truthful people.
Deemed credible I choose.

How I have hope, which is never lost!
Without reluctance I continue -
to the recommended anonym auditor;
tranquility listens further
to me

if i had
    a genuine face,
i wouldn't
be hiding,
      behind a mask;
in a civilisation
obedient
by the only
artistic
expression,
via the thespians...
why should
my face, genuine,
say anything?
i assure you:
the mask will tell
you much more.

Clouds pass each other
Kissing like Venn diagrams

Pin his tail
The butterfly too
Use what they were saying
the both of them too

Buildings touch the sky
But 10 times more stand behind the eye
The paths shine
I've walk them a million times

Try to catch me
Locate me
Fascinate and dissect me
Put me on display
For the crowds of imagined friends
Who aren't there

I'll collapse by the end of this bleep
Something immortal
Better than sleep